


Habitat

by darklittlestory



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, Brief mention of illness will be fine, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older brother Loki, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, This is summer boys fluff in a terrible backdrop, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklittlestory/pseuds/darklittlestory
Summary: Thor stops by Loki's place with plans to take him to their family home to shelter in place, when they get news that they'll have to stay in Loki's studio apartment instead.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	Habitat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moirahawthorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirahawthorne/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Donate to Black Lives Matter](https://secure.actblue.com/donate/ms_blm_homepage_2019)
> 
> [Other ways to support the movement](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)

Thor gives most of his attention to the road and absently responds to his mom on a hands-free set he’d rigged in a car much too old to be bluetooth-capable.

“Yes, Mom. I called him.” 

No, he hadn’t; he’d texted, but same. 

“Yes, Loki’s set for food. I’m the destitute college student, not him. Uh-huh… uh-huh…” Thor checks all of his mirrors and chances a look at his navigation app.

“Really? Aunt Idunn is sixty-eight? She’s okay isolating at the farm? Yep, well, you both have grandma’s skin. Everyone thinks you’re immortal."

"Ha! Yes I use sunblock every day, Mom.” 

No, he doesn’t.

“Yes, Mother. I am washing my hands, my feet, my hair, and my dick one hundred times a day... No, I don't watch the news; I get my information on Twitter like a civilized nineteen year old. Just today I learned that this is all a hoax manufactured by us liberals to persecute our poor president.”

He smiles over his shoulder and eases his third-hand Forester into the right lane. It’s great to hear Frigga’s full, rich laugh. She’s too worried these days, with Loki’s divorce and Thor’s freshman year in college and now—because of course—there’s a global pandemic.

“I gotta go,” he says. “I’m almost at Loki’s exit. Love you, too, Mom... I am... We will. We won’t. He will. I will. We  _ are _ careful, Mom. You, too.” 

He switches off the call, carefully watching the road, and turns his playlist back on softly.

Traffic is ridiculous with people still (worryingly) going about rush hour business.

He’s stopping at Loki’s studio apartment in the city before he heads home to settle in with his mom and dad. Thor’s just supposed to be checking in on Loki, but secretly he’s planning a very friendly kidnapping. Frigga is nervous about his stop, he could tell. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but she didn’t have to. She’s warring between her concern for Loki and getting Thor home as soon as possible. 

She and Odin are furious—beyond their usual level of political ire—with the way the US has handled the outbreak, but all of them had been relieved when the university had canceled in-person classes.

Thor’s anxious, too, and despite his teasing he does follow the news. This shit is scary on a global scope Thor struggles to fit inside his mind. It’s like trying to really understand the size of the universe or the nothingness after death. 

He can’t grasp it, so he focuses on the worry he can hold: Loki is all alone and whether he likes it or not, his little brother is coming to take him to their family home where the four of them can weather this storm together. 

Loki’s studio apartment is above a bakery, and when Thor pulls into the tiny parking lot toward the back stairs, he sees the sandwich board sign advertising, “Open for delivery * Limited hours * Stay Safe,” with looping chalk doodles.

Loki has been praising their soup lunch specials and Thor had been looking forward to sharing lunches in the cheery-looking shop or the sidewalk cafe tables from the photos he’d sent Thor. The tables are gone now, and Thor is struck with another one of the hard jolts of reality that keep hitting him. He can’t sit in the sun by the cafe at his brother’s new apartment and comfort him over crusty bread and soup because the entire world is getting sick. 

Bakery sandwich boards are still cute but there is a deadly pandemic.

Thor gets out of the car and groans, straightening his legs and rolling his shoulders. There’s sun glaring on the huge windows so Thor can’t see in, but Loki must have seen him, because he opens the door. Loki hesitates at the top of the landing, then waits there with his tight, closed smile. Thor takes the metal stairs two at a time and then his hug lifts Loki off his feet. 

Loki breathes a quiet laugh, and his eyes are glassy and too-bright. He looks away and tilts his gaze up a moment, then hugs Thor to him.    
  
“Hey, kid,” Loki says. His voice is hoarse. “It’s really great to see you.”

* * *

Thor smiles at Loki, all teeth and tangled hair and new muscle testing a very thin stretched tee. “I miss you,” he says. 

He kisses Loki’s cheek, and then breezes past him to the apartment like he’s been here a thousand times, calling, “Gotta pee like you would not believe.” He finds the bathroom himself, which isn’t hard; the only doors are the one he just came through and the one to the toilet.

Loki’s cheeks are warm from the kiss, then he realizes Thor has started to piss with the door open and they burn. He feels ridiculous— _Thor_ is ridiculous, but he doesn’t complain. Loki doesn’t know if adult siblings typically piss with the door open. In any case, he doesn’t tell his kid brother to close it. He doesn’t want to deprive himself of the casual intimacy.

Loki thinks of Bo, who had been on their period the first time they had sex. Evidently Thor still has the same total comfort with his body Loki’s former spouse does. He’d been like that as a kid, but Loki hasn’t shared space with him since Thor was twelve.

Thor farts softly as if reading Loki’s mind, and Loki giggles at the timing.

“Wash your hands while you sing ‘Stayin’ Alive,’” Loki says.

“I do ‘Tainted Love,’ actually,” Thor answers. Then he sings it loudly while he washes up.

Loki pours Thor a sugary cold brew and they climb through the huge window out to the rooftop garden. They talk about Thor’s classes and how well he thinks the transition online will go. Thor’s ranting animatedly about the access issues it presents with technology and housing when the dorms are officially closed, when Loki’s phone rings. 

He answers immediately, his heart hammering. They hate to cold call; they always text first. And they saw each other just a few days ago. The two of them check in, but not this frequently.

Thor’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. Loki must look as concerned as he feels.

“Bo?” Loki says. 

* * *

Thor doesn’t like the look on Loki’s face, and the sob that catches in his throat a moment later is even worse.

He hears just half of a conversation, but it’s obvious what’s going on and by the end of it the ramifications are clear. When he ends the call, Loki has calmed down from outright panic but is still deeply shaken.

“Bo has the virus,” Loki tells him. “They’re positive.”   
  
“Okay,” Thor says, and he takes Loki’s hands in his. “Hey. Okay. They aren’t sick, it sounds like? They're okay?”

“Right, no symptoms, but...” Loki can’t keep going.

“Good,” Thor says, steady. “That’s great. They’re gonna be fine, Lo.” Thor runs his thumbs over the bumpy bones in Loki’s wrists, soothing and distracting.

“It sounds like you were exposed, though?” Thor asks.

Loki nods and doesn’t say anything, like he can’t get words out. Thor knows from years of experience Loki's trying not to cry. His eyes finally fill and tears spill over. He manages to choke out, “And Joni has a f-fever,” and then his throat catches and tightens again.

Loki adores Bo's mom. From what Thor knows about her he does too. He remembers Joni seamlessly changing from Angie to Bo when Angrboda confessed they loathed their nickname, then doing the same with pronouns shortly after. 

Thor pulls Loki to him and Loki finally lets go and weeps openly, clutching Thor, and they hold onto each other. They end up on the floor of the patio, Loki leaning boneless against Thor.

Thor hates this more than any feeling he’s ever felt. It's akin to seeing a parent cry but worse, somehow.

He's always hated to see Loki weep. They both cry readily but Loki doesn't cry anything like easily. He fights it so that tears look angry on Loki as if he's pissed off with himself for emoting. 

Thor strokes Loki’s back in long passes and runs his hand over Loki’s hair. His shirt is wet and Loki is half in his lap, and Thor’s ass is starting to hurt from sitting on the hard floor, but Thor feels a rightness settle into him. 

A whole storm of wrong is swirling around them, but he and Loki clinging together is a thing righting itself after too long. It's nostalgia, reversed with Thor comforting Loki. It's a little of his debt to Loki for nightmares hushed away in the night.

Loki has stopped crying now, and his breath is even, but he stays in place, head resting against Thor’s neck, turned inward.

“We have to stay here,” Loki whispers against Thor’s chest.

“I know.”

“For two weeks at least.”

“I know. It’ll be okay. We need to call Mom and Dad, though. I'd rather not wait until they call us.”

Loki groans. He stirs but Thor gently pulls him back against his chest and winds his arm around Loki’s shoulder. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and they call Frigga on speakerphone. 

Thor massages Loki’s shoulder the whole time as Loki tells Frigga, Odin, and Thor about Angrboda dropping off a crate of Loki’s books a few days ago and how of course they hugged and kissed goodbye. Bo is absolutely fine but their mom is having some mild symptoms. 

Frigga and Odin take the change of plans in stride, and Thor imagines that Odin is holding Frigga in the same pose as this, massaging the perpetual stones in his mother’s shoulders.

The brothers promise to stay in very frequent contact and Thor pockets his phone. 

“Okay, my ass is falling asleep,” Thor says.

Loki scoots away and stands up, brushing off his clothes, and a mask falls back into place. He’s buttoned up again. It makes Thor ache to see it. 

“I’m going to inventory the kitchen,” Loki says.   
  
“Lo.” Thor says.

Loki turns to him. “What?” 

Thor says, “Leave it ‘til the morning. You said you bought panic groceries two weeks ago, and I’m sure there’s fresher stuff in there if I know you. Relax for now, okay?”

Loki’s shoulders sag a little, and he says, “Yes. Thanks, kid. How about… underage drinking? I’ll make gin lemonades. I guess you’re unpacking the car.”

Thor grins and gives him double thumbs-ups.

* * *

After two drinks, Loki’s feet are propped on the antique steamer trunk he uses as a coffee table and after three they're in Thor’s lap. Even Thor’s thumbs are stronger than they should be. 

“Why, exactly… the fuck?” Loki asks. The three drinks had gone down fast.

Thor’s eyebrows raise in question.

“With the muscles. Like, why so…” Loki gestures balloon shapes in the air. 

Thor chuckles and shrugs. “It helps with the depression. Also I could totally bench press my six foot two big brother now, so I think I’ve got the sibling rivalry game pretty well wrapped up at this point.”

Loki kicks him in the abdomen. Hard as granite. It’s ridiculous. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. “I’m pissed at the world that you have the depression genes, too. It’s not fair. It’s trite as fuck, but you’ve always been so happy.”

“Yeah, but happy isn’t the opposite of depressed. Sounds weird, but hear me out. Depression’s a disorder, not an emotion, you know? Happy is the opposite of sad, not of depressed. Yeah?”

“Goddamn, Thor. Wanna be my therapist?” 

How did a nineteen year old kid get wiser than Loki?

Thor says, “Sure, tell me about your mother.” 

Loki says, “Actual Nordic goddess with asshat sons. Next question.” 

They crack up, then Thor squeezes Loki’s feet in his huge, warm, gentle hands, and Loki feels soft and cozy and they talk for hours. Loki cries and laughs and at the end of it he feels like he’s been scoured clean.

It’s three a.m. when they finally take turns pissing and brushing teeth. Loki leaves the door open as an experiment. It feels like a bizarre dare. Then Thor doesn't and Loki feels like an animal.

When he's finished, Thor says, “Extra sheets?”

Loki laughs and says, “For what, the couch? It’s six inches too short at least.”

Loki's bed is queen-size, which the guys have each found a good minimum for (one of) their six-plus feet frames, when they can get it. Thor’s been suffering through a dorm-sized single at school.

“Floor…?”

“Thor, it’s hardwood. Don’t be an idiot. And don’t snore.”

* * *

Loki snores. Exuberantly. Operatically. 

Thor wakes to it and laughs silently but so hard it shakes the bed and wakes Loki, who hisses at him and rolls over. His round backside juts out against Thor’s hip. He grins to himself and manages not to giggle at his skinny brother’s plump bottom. 

He lies still a long while listening to Loki’s breath, soft little chuffs now, and feeling the warmth where their bodies are flush. They haven’t lived in the same home for seven years. This thought makes tears sting Thor’s eyes. He cries so much more easily than his brother.

He rolls toward Loki and snuggles against him. Loki says, _nff._ Thor falls asleep almost instantly.

He dreams he and Loki are in their childhood room, in the bunk bed they shared when they were young. Loki had the bottom and Thor’s bunk was above. He let Thor pick and Thor wanted to be “in the sky.” At bedtime, though, they’d snuggle up in Loki’s bed and he’d read stories to Thor. 

In the dream, Loki has his old plush horse. He’s showing Thor a picture book with plants and stars, and then Thor is the horse and he’s eating hay. 

He wakes with Loki’s hair in his mouth. 

When Thor gets out of bed, his shape stays behind for long enough that Loki rolls into it. His hair is a thick tangle of waves in the morning; the pieces where he’s wept or sweated on it and where Thor’s mouth has just been are winding into coils.

Thor moves as quietly as possible through the apartment, grateful that the studio is spacious. Loki’s made his living situation—having to halve a household’s belongings—look chic and purposeful. Thor approves of the few cozy touches that warm up the minimalism: The worn wood of the trunk, the afgan Aunt Idunn crocheted.

He washes up the forgotten glasses from the night before, thankful the drinks loosened his brother up enough to talk. He and Loki had been texting and FaceTime-ing frequently this year, and it’s easily the closest they’ve been since they were kids, but Loki’s been really closed off about the breakup. 

When Thor had pressed a little, Loki snapped, “Look, Thor, it’s not just my story to tell. It’s Bo’s too, and I’m not ‘spilling any tea’ or whatever you kids call it because you’re morbidly fucking curious, okay?”

It had stung, and things had been chilly between them for a week or so. 

Now Thor gets it. Loki's been through hell with Bo and evidently Bo’s mental health is more complicated than Loki’s and Thor’s problems have ever been. Thor’s glad, having a clearer picture of the past few years, that Bo is stable now, and happy to be at home with their mom. 

And Loki seems relieved, and sad, and happy… and excited and nervous and confused. He’d been with Bo since they were seventeen, and they got married at twenty. 

Thor remembers being thirteen years old and thinking his Dad was going to have a heart attack about the whole thing, and Frigga, as always, smoothing Odin’s raw edges. She’d also been there for Thor’s sullen moods as he coped with the hole in his world that Loki left behind. 

It had been an unnameable sorrow. He saw empty space everywhere that Loki wasn’t. The bookshelf in the hallway between their bedrooms had empty shelves. Loki's chair at the dining room table made Thor ache horribly.

He wanted to call and text Loki constantly, but he'd been told not to bother the newlyweds. And he didn’t know what to say anyway when the normal stuff wasn’t there any longer.

Then it occurred to him that Loki was for real an adult and had been for a long time. Thor couldn’t think of a single thing a teenager had to say that was relevant or interesting. He’d taken Loki’s lack of communication as confirmation of that theory.

He's pretty sure now that growing apart was inevitable, and normal. Probably extremely healthy. Still, melancholy clings to him when he thinks of it.

He shakes it, re-centering himself here with the sun streaming in to cast rectangles of light shattered by wide oblong leaf shadows.

Whatever unknowns there are in these strange days, he’s on solid ground again now that he and his brother are in the same space. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt, Moira! This was the Twitter prompt: "“quarantined... in Loki's tiny bachelor apartment... one bed prompt... ages? either an age gap college/30something (uncle Loki) or two older divorcees”


End file.
